


Control

by Vrunka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: After a rough dungeon excursion, the boys' need time to reaffirm where they all stand.





	Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mmysbathotw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mmysbathotw/gifts).



> A commission for Mmysbathotw. I can only hope I have done her ideas some justice!

The silences are probably the thing that get to him the most.

They are team, yes.

But friends first and foremost.

And the silences...well, those feel more like begrudging duty than anything else.

It is Gladio, of course, who breaks first. Quick to forgive. Eager for things to be the way they were. Laughter around the fires; an ease of the tension in even such dire times.

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with you," he says, shoving Noctis' shoulder with the broad flat of his palm, "but don't do it again okay?"

And then the matter, between them, is resolved.

Prompto takes a little more. An intimate moment when everyone else is asleep and Noctis is left staring up at the stars. Prompto an awkward, silent yearning behind him.

"Look," the blond had started before stuttering off. Staring into the sky in a slouch-shouldered mirror of Noctis' position. "I'm just...worried, you know?"

And yes, Noctis gets it. He knows. So he makes it as painless as he can. Grips Prompto's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. A whispered reassurance in the dark. A fist bump and poorly backlit selfie by the dying fire.

And then the matter, between them, is resolved.

Ignis however.

Ignis is a different breed entirely.

His sulky silence persists through the night. A gnawing, gnashing realized thing that breaths and saws between them. Ignis drives in stoic gloominess. Both hands on the wheel, elegant fingers curved and most likely white-knuckled under his gloves.

Noctis does not know the way to go about apologizing to Ignis and Iggy, he knows, will not approach him demanding such.

But one of them will have to bend. Will have to break. Prompto and Galdio give them space, a wide berth when they settle into camp the next night. An unspoken chastisement.

Iggy continues like he doesn't notice their friends' distance.

It comes to a head, as these things so often do, in the tent, of all places.

"You should just tell me off too," Noctis says, turning on Ignis when they pass in the confined space. Unable to stand it any longer. "The others already have."

Ignis' gaze flashes behind his glasses. "Petulance in a child is bad enough," he says. A hiss. A snap. Lower and far crueler than his normal tone, "in a grown man its deplorable. And suicidal idiocy is--"

Noctis huffs, rolls his eyes. He toys with the hem of his shirt, fingers folding in the fabric. "Fine," he says, "okay," he says. "I'll be more careful next time, all right?"

But Ignis doesn't deflate. Nor does he uncross his arms.

The matter hangs between them, unresolved by Noctis' words.

"It is more than that, your highness," Ignis says, though he knows Noctis hates it when he calls him that. But there something in the way that he says it that doesn't fit with the succinct and well-spoken personage he usually projects.

The year gap in their ages has never felt so wide as when Ignis' expression folds into something more gentle. Guiding. Advising. The father that Noctis no longer has. The kingdom on his shoulders.

"So I ran a little ahead," Noctis says, eager to stop this line of conversation before it can go further. Already hedging such dangerous territory. "But I'm not hurt. You guys...protected me. And I'm fine now."

A two hour rest until he had found the energy to go on though. It had taken far longer to reach clear territory with Noctis limping from his wounds.

Ignis shakes his head. "Maybe this time yes but...You...are more than just yourself, and you will be for the rest of your life. You are the line of Lucius. You are the beacon of Insomnia. To lose you would be detrimental to so many beyond our immediate company. We cannot lose you. We cannot."

Noctis looks away. He has to. He looks to his hands, curling into his shirt. White-knuckled.

The legacy he never asked for. The responsibilities he has shouldered simply because he had to. Because there is no one else to.

"So," he says slowly, "I'm not even a person to you then anymore, am I, Iggy?"

The sight of the shock flickering over Ignis' expression is almost enough to justify the hurt that follows.

And it is unfair of course, it is playing dirty, but Noctis cannot help himself.

"If you think for a second," Ignis begins before emotion floods his tone. Chokes him. His hands have moved from the insides of his own elbows. They twist in front of him. "If you think for even just in jest you can tell me that I don't value you, that I don't...care for you as a person. Then." He pauses again.

Noctis is unused to this. Ignis is the composed one. The collected. This wasn't the reaction he was looking for.

"You may as well stop calling me your friend," Ignis says. His voice is hard. Flinty. "You will be my prince and I your advisor and nothing more."

Noctis closes his eyes. He slumps forward slightly. Sighing. "Ignis," he says. An apology he can't quite form rolls over in the word. "Oh, Ignis."

It seems to work. Ignis' expression shifts. The justified anger melting into something softer. Slowly, tentatively, approaching something out in the wild; Ignis steps closer. His fingers touch Noctis' cheek, slide up over his ear and into his hair.

"I didn't mean it like that," Noctis says. Another apology. Sulking twist. "I just...you're right okay? And I know you're right. But I..."

"On the battlefield you must always be in complete control. It is your duty," Ignis looks away. Maybe he realizes how close they are standing, the intimacy of it. His fingers curl in Noctis' hair. He swallows but he does not step away. "Perhaps though."

His other hand moves, a slow describing circle in the air.

"Perhaps I...could. Could help. I could uhh...that is I could perhaps lift some of your burden. That...control."

Noctis' breathing catches. A terrible, wonderful, rolling surge of sparks down his spine.

"What are you saying?"

Ignis blanches. His gaze flicks down and away.

"Specs," Noctis says with a smile. "You offerin' what I..."

"I-it's only if you...want to. I...is this overstepping?"

His fingers flinch again. His arm tenses. Noctis grabs him before he can move, before he can retract it. He wonders, idly, if Ignis' palms are sweating within his leather gloves. Slick and warm in the confines.

There has been attraction between them for as long as Noctis can remember. The teasing edge of what if. He loves all of his friends equally. But he will always, always have a special place for Ignis.

Ignis who for so long has been there for him, by his side.

"I need that, I think," Noctis says. "I'd...it would help."

"You've never done it before?"

He asks like he doesn't know. He asks, Noctis supposes, because it is the right thing to do; not to assume.

Noctis shakes his head. "Not like this," he says. He can feel the slight, drawing flush of blood through his cheeks. Just a slight bit embarrassed. And Ignis too, blushing. Noctis grins, he licks his lips, runs a finger down Noctis' chest. "What," he says, "you have?"

"It's...that is I-"

"You actually have." Noctis cannot stop or help the laugh that bubbles out of him. "Wow. I mean...I...you actually have." He juts his chin out, Ignis' hand moves with him, does nothing to restrict the petulant figure Noctis strikes. "You like tying boys up in your bed, Specs? Like having them begging for it." He goes to push closer and this time Ignis' grip does stop him.

The fingers tighten in his hair.

Ignis' other hand is on his belt.

His tongue traces the edges of his upper teeth, Noctis can see it through his parted lips. "I don't know, my Prince," he says, slowly. Playing didactic. "Why don't we find out."

\--

The tent is not exactly the most private place in the world.

But find out they do.

\--

"Oh gods," Noctis is saying. "Oh fuck, oh fuck."

His hands twist together, fingers fluttering spasmodically around each other. Knotted together.

The belt at his wrists is just tight enough to keep him from slipping free easily. It binds the strained motions without cutting off the circulation.

Ignis had certainly known what he was doing.

That point is beyond question.

The fingers of Ignis' right hand rub gently against the skin of Noctis' belly. The supple leather of the gloves so smooth and so soft.

His left hand is holding Noctis' cock. Cradling it in the seam of his palm, like someone would a small animal. Gentle and slow.

"Are you okay?" Ignis asks. Noctis' mind stalls on the question, turns it over and over. Of course he is okay but he is also dying, these small motions are breaking him down piece by fractured piece.

"Get on with it," he says in lieu of a real answer.

Ignis grins. He releases Noctis' cock. Gloved fingers touching his own lips. Black leather against the frustrating pink. The tip of his finger slides between them, disappearing and Noctis groans.

Ignis' hand on his stomach slides up to his pec, rolls his nipple between two of his fingers.

The white gleam of teeth biting down on that black leather, red and pink and white and black. Ignis' hand slips free of the glove. It hangs from his mouth like a shadow. Until his teeth release it and it falls somewhere next to Noctis' hips.

"Ig--" Noctis starts to say. His hips strain upwards. Up and up. Restless shifting.

But Ignis does not touch him. Ignis sits up instead. Stands. Begins to shed his clothes with methodical grace. The jacket folded and laid to the side. The pants next. The shirt. Not a strip tease, nothing so crass, but it doesn't matter.

It hits Noctis all the same.

The second glove is placed in the pile of his clothing and for a moment Noctis is afraid Ignis will take the time to look for the other, but instead Ignis kneels back by his side. Pets his hand along Noctis' hips.

Ignis is beautiful, of course. Lean and tall and thinly muscled. The swell of his arms, bunching muscles as he pushes Noctis' shirt up. The cut of his cock, curling toward his stomach.

The only real outward sign of his arousal.

Noctis feels almost silly; hard and panting and blushing and worked up as he is.

"What are you thinking about," Ignis asks, grinning. His thumbnail catches Noctis' nipple and Noctis lets out a low, rolling groan.

"You, how...how fuckin' good you look."

"Flattery," Ignis says with a chuckle, "will get you nowhere, your highness."

But his hand circles around Noctis' cock so it clearly is getting him somewhere.

"Don't come yet," Ignis says as Noctis' eyes fall shut, as he begins to loose himself in the counter rhythm to Ignis' touching. "Wouldn't learn your lesson if you come to soon. This is about giving up control. Can you trust me enough to let me do this with you?"

It's a little late for the question. Noctis is already naked and hard and fucking tied up with Ignis' belt. But Ignis' expression is serious, and his fingers are curled cage-like around him and he needs to give an answer because at this stage they both need to hear it.

"I trust you with my life," Noctis says.

With his life. Always. Always.

Ignis smiles. His glasses flash. His grip tightens. Fingers sliding to press just under the sensitive head. Flicking mercilessly at the bundle of nerves and veins just below the crown.

Noctis swears, loudly. He rolls his hips.

Don't come, he thinks. But the touches were so sudden, so unexpected. His cock twitches. Precome making Ignis' grip slide easier. Drooling from the tip of his cock, messy and sticky on his shaft.

"Not yet," Ignis says and Noctis bites his lip. Physically forces his hips to still. His fingers, tied above his head twist into one another, nails digging into knuckle, digging into palm.

"So good for me," Ignis says. The smile in his voice has another bead of precome pooling at the tip. "How do you feel, my prince?"

Too tightly wound. On edge. Faltering.

"Can't," Noctis pants. His thighs shift apart. Ignis' hand is unmoving on his cock. "Please, it feels. Amazing. Just. Ignis, Iggy, please."

"I shouldn't let you," Ignis says. "You're too spoiled as it is."

"Please. I'm gonna lose my mind. Iggy, I--please, Iggy, just."

Ignis--damn him, damn him--drums his fingers. A thinking motion. The noise Noctis makes, something strangled and startled, dies in his throat.

But he doesn't come.

And that's really the point, isn't it.

Ignis bends over. His breath ghosts over Noctis' collar, his heaving chest. His lips graze over Noctis' bobbing Adam's apple. The sharp jut of his chin.

"May I kiss you, Noct?" Ignis asks.

Again, to late. They wouldn't be into this if they both didn't want to be here.

Noctis licks his lips. His eyes flutter. He can feel the way his lashes are clumping. Tears at the corners of his vision.

"Please," he says. Because at this point he'll take anything.

The kiss is more innocent than the situation calls for. Close mouthed, full-lipped. Ignis sighs against him. His cock brushes almost idly across Noctis' hip.

The sensations are over whelming. Soft and warm and uncontrollable.

Noctis groans against Ignis' mouth. Strains to keep them connected even as Ignis is pulling away.

"Oh, my prince," he says. "You're so good for me."

"Oh, my prince," he says. "Do you want to come?"

"Yes. Gods, please, yes."

Ignis' fingers spread wider. His grip loosens. Noctis can feel his body, so close to unraveling, to losing it. Orgasm so near he can practically taste it on the back of his tongue.

"Please," he says. "Ignis," he says.

"I hear you, I hear you." Ignis licks his lips. His knee presses tightly against Noctis' thigh.

"Alright," Ignis says. "Alright. Alright. Come for me, Noct. You can come. You've been so good."

And that is all it takes.

Noctis arches, spine bending like a bow. His muscles spasm. His cock spurting and he can't see it because orgasm is whiting out his thoughts but he can feel what a mess he is making and he knows doesn't care.

The thought is someone else's problem.

Ignis' maybe.

But it's distant and it doesn't matter. Orgasm leaves Noctis shaking. Leaves him feeling soft.

He blinks.

His arms ache.

But he can move them. Separately. The belt is on the floor. Noctis can see the buckle from here.

"Back with me?" Ignis sounds a little concerned. Noctis turns his head to look at him.

Confusion and little bit of embarrassment.

"I was out of it?"

"Only for a few minutes. You...are okay though?"

"Better than. You?"

Ignis is still hard, a glance down his body is enough to reveal that. Noctis rolls to his side. Smooths his hand over to stroke Ignis' hip.

"I...shall be fine. You don't have to feel the need to reciprocate." Ignis pushes his glasses up with one finger. He is blushing.

Noctis will never admit it, but he finds it horribly cute.

"What if I want to? Return the favor, you know. See what you look like all tied up."

The shade of Ignis' cheeks darkens further. He palms the back of his neck. He won't meet Noctis' gaze, is looking off to the floor slightly to the right.

"I...that is. It's not something I would normally--uh that is--"

"You're supposed to be the eloquent one here, Iggy."

"Right. Yes. Well. That is...we certainly could find out. Couldn't we?"

And they certainly, certainly could.


End file.
